Do I Have Bad Luck?

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So now that it has been almost 8 months since my final experience abroad, and no one probs reads this anymore, I think I'm finally emotionally ready to write about the last leg of my trip. But my guess is that I'll still have a panic attack mid post. This might take a couple days...

Let's start from the beginning:

Michelle and I thought we would be spontaneous for our last week in Europe and travel north to Milan, then go to Barcelona, Spain. We are so impulsive.

Milan (Milano) is BEAUTIFUL. I cannot wait to go back when 1) The opera house Il Teatro all Scala is open 2) I have lots of money for shopping!

After a hard and long train ride into the city, we were out of our minds ecstatic when we checked into the Hilton Milan (thanks Father Mettenet!). It was the nicest conditioned sleep/biggest bed/largest shower I had seen in weeks.
The Milano Duomo was absolutely breathtaking (and FREE!). I love stainglass and the stainglass art within the cathedral is the most colorful, extensive, enigmatic, and overwhelmingly beautiful I have had the opportunity to see.
The doors to the Firenze Baptistry are also beautiful and well-known, but the doors to this Cathedral were absolutely breathtaking in their sheer size and attention to detail.
I also loved walking through the Galleria Vittorio Emanuele II (right next to the Duomo and connects the piazza to the Teatro), and it again made me want to return with pockets full of money.
However we did not leave the city completely empty handed.
All too soon we had to leave the modern city and fly to our next adventure

The flight to Barcelona was smooth (but don't eat at the BK Lounge abroad in an airport, I swear it was almost 20 bucks! And so not worth it.) Our taxi driver had a little trouble finding our hotel, and it was definitely clear that Michelle and I were not in Italy anymore.

The next morning, we were up nice and early to go figure out Barcelona's public transportation to our hostel. We might have written the wrong address--and therefore the wrong directions--down and spent the better part of two hours traveling down La Ramba trying to find the place.

We did make it eventually, and though we were probably not in the best of sorts, went out to explore the city around us.

The National Museum of Art of Catalonia

Sculpture by Miró

After getting the last bit of sun on the beach, we found some food (not as good as Italy), and returned back to the hostel (I don't think I'm going backpacking ever. Hostel's are a little too dirty for me). But returned back out to the city to watch The Magic Fountain show (not as good as Disney's World of Color) before heading to bed.

The next day we once again set out early to conquer the public transportation system and explore more of the city.

La Sagrada Familia by Gaudi was of course a must see stop.

While the whole thing is really spectacular, and we didn't take the time to explore inside (you should have seen the line), my favorite part of the uncompleted Basilica was the back.

It featured these beautiful and unique sculptures of Christ's ministry and life (the above obviously illustrating him being betrayed by a kiss).

We also stopped by the MACBA, a contemporary art museum.

Contemporary work is still growing on me, but the exhibits were all very interesting (but not quite my style).

Next on the to-do list became my favorite part of the trip: SAILING

One thing to note about me...I am slightly terrified of open water. I blame seeing Titanic multiple times in the theatre at a very young and vulnerable age for this fear. Or Jaws. I know it is a once in a lifetime chance to be eaten by a psycho shark, and the water below me was quite warm...yet I was still terrified. The boat could have turned over on me or something! Okay...it's an irrational fear (I really don't go past my knees in the CA beaches), yet I am still proud of myself for participating in the experience and we each had a really wonderful time as well.

We then returned to the hostel for a little Paella and salsa dancing.

We were brave and tried the new dish, but it was still not as good as anything in Italy

So you know, even though it's almost been a year, in order to not give myself another panic attack I will briefly explain how the Barcelona adventure ended.

In a single sentence: my passport was stolen.

So how do you think the trip ended?

Sometime between leaving the metro and laying on the beach my wallet was stolen that had my passport inside, some euros, credit card, and my drivers license. And my chapstick and gum, if you were wondering.

Luckily, while I went into shock, Michelle went into "mother-mode" and somehow got us to a police station where we filed a police report and canceled my card. Back at our hostel we got a hold of both our parents where they started lots of prayers and thinking of solutions, and emailed a copy of our passport in hopes that they airlines would let me fly back to Italy in the morning (our flight left at 6:30 am, and a cab was coming to pick us up at 4).

So we got to the airport super early and waited for attendants to check us in. Finally a man started checking people in and it was our turn. We explained the situation, showed him the police report, and the copy of my passport, and he told us to sit to the side and he would have to wait for his supervisor.

We moved to the side and huddled with our bags. And waited.

Praying and looking pathetic.

About a half hour later, he tells us to come back up. And asks for our bags.

"Wait are you letting us on?"
"Yes."

And then Michelle and I simultaneously burst into tears.

(P.S. The Church is true)

From there we got to Milan safely. We didn't go to Lago Como, but got on the train to Florence. And checked into the Hilton in Florence (it was wonderful, thank you Daddy Mettenet), and settled down for some relaxing in the evening after the most stressful experience of my entire life.



The next morning we left early to go to the U.S. consulate in Florence were they were able to give me a temporary passport, and then we spent the rest of the day eating and shopping for our last day in the beautiful Italia.

The flight home was not without its excitement either. From Florence to Madrid was smooth. But then my plane in Spain (1. Reference 2. I should never go to Spain ever again), was over an hour late...and I only had an hour and half before my connecting flight in London left. Luckily, my mother checked her email at 4 am so when I got out of the plane in London, a man was there with a pass that at least got me to the front of the check lines and in the fast lanes. Even with this bright orange pass, I found myself RUNNING to buses, elevators, trains, across floors, through security checks. When I finally walked out of the elevator to where my check in was supposed to be, I hear over the intercom "last call for boarding for flight to LAX." That final panic attack was enough to get me to my gate and on the plane. And even though my luggage didn't make it to me for two more days, I did get back to the states safely.

Italy was an absolute dream, I was so blessed to be able to go and I cannot even wait for my next opportunity to go back.

But in conclusion, I love America.